Follow a small town (okay, not really) girl on the road to Nairobi, Kenya for Nest's Summer Fellowship 2012...
Crystal is currently attending UC Berkeley where she is pursuing a degree in Sociology and Global Poverty and Practice. This summer she will be helping Nest and their partner CREA with their efforts to provide market access to artisans in rural communities conducting needs-assessment surveys, helping with production development, and learning the ropes of ethical sourcing and Free Trade. When she is not busy with school, Crystal spends her time with books, ESPN, kickboxing, and baking vegan goodies. She watches baseball as if her life depended on it and is in a committed relationship with the Philadelphia Phillies.
-written at the airport, Wednesday night, July 25, 2012
I can say this experience really blew me away. It was nothing like I expected, yet everything I hoped for. I expected to churn out interviews like nobody’s business and move from one artisan to the next. I expected to learn a lot about the demographics of the artisan through the surveys and audits which is why I looked forward to doing them. But I can honestly say I learned the most when I had no notebook or pen in my hand, no survey, no agenda. My most memorable experiences have come from unexpected breaks and unplanned interactions. Way before the audits were even done I already knew the answers to most of the questions as it only takes a couple of days of observing Cristina and CREA to know exactly how the business runs. The great thing about Cristina is her transparency in how she explains every little bit of what she does. And she doesn’t just talk the talk, she walks the walk. Every decision made was a culmination of a slew of factors she could rattle off immediately and that is what helped me and Sibie learn so much in such a short time.
Before the surveys I learned a lot from Aman and the rest of the artisans just from talking to them and visiting their places of work. They talked openly about their living situations, their struggles with business, their families, and their plans for the future. With my shy and reserved self it took me a few weeks to get comfortable talking openly with all the artisans and of course now I regret waiting until the latter part of my visit. But those informal conversations were the most informative, useful, entertaining, and flat out funny conversations of the whole trip. They are conversations I will treasure and hope to have more of in the future with anyone I meet.
So here is the list of all the wonderful things I learned this summer as a Nest Fellow. Some of them are serious, some of them are not, and some of them…you just had to be here. Think of it as the “Ultimate Grand Supreme” of Lessons Learned.
*Disclaimer: Be warned, some of these are graphic.*
In no particular order…
A twelve hour flight without Pepto Bismol can be rather uncomfortable.
Blogging is addictive.
You never know when you might need an extra pen.
Try new things.
Sometimes advice must me ignored and roasted corn on from the sidewalk must be bought (sorry!).
With a good amount of pressure and passion, you can learn to do anything.
Don’t try the peanut butter unless you are willing to become addicted.
You can always get something at a better price, you just have to bargain for it.
Use the bathroom before you leave.
First impressions can’t be changed. Applicable everywhere.
This is Africa.
A good pair of boots go a long way.
Sidewalks made of grass. ‘Nuff said. Lovely.
Knowledge is one thing, experience is quite another.
A picture’s worth a thousand feelings.
The lazy man works double (my mom’s favorite saying).
Smile when saying hello.
Hard work means a lot of things.
While relationships can be mended, trust never really can.
Ain’t no donut like a King Pin donut cuz a King Pin donut don’t suck.
There is nothing like a Kenyan passionfruit, except a Kenyan mango.
When you don’t watch American news channels on a regular basis, you are a lot more fearless.
Handmade means handmade.
Fatter wallets mean tighter wallets.
Spanish soap operas subtitled in English show you how dramatic Latinos and Hispanics really are.
I love Kenya.
Solar heating water is a great idea…when there is sun.
You and a stranger will always have something in common.
The best food in the world is made by an amazing Kenyan woman, taught by Italian and British culinary masters.
Anyone can love running when they have the proper scenery.
Berkeley weather? Try Kenyan thunderstorms. Sneakier than Madolf.
I hate concrete.
Best way to make a friend? Make a joke. Appropriate sarcasm works.
With enough exposure and repetition, you can learn to like something you once disliked.
We are a lot more similar than we are different (taken from sociology and the Nest team!).
There is nothing like a Kenyan mango. NOTHING.
Human imperfection is beautiful.
There are not enough words I can use to describe this experience to you. Sitting here in the airport waiting for my flight has hit me like a brick and I am finally coming to terms with the fact that this trip is over. The past seven days have flown by even faster than the first 40+ and arriving at the airport was just. So. Depressing. It wa the one time I was praying for us to hit Kenyan traffic, but alas, Laurence is too good to get stuck in traffic. Saying goodbye was really really hard and not to go into too much detail, buuuuuut… let’s just say there were bystanders.
Since this post is seriously saddening, I’m going to do final goodbyes and thank you’s rapper shout-out style. Let’s keep it quick (haha, right!), lively, and entertaining.
Laurence- Yo,yo,yo, Lo Lo Jones! Thanks for being an awesome driver, tour guide, comedian, and matchmaker. I will miss trekking across Nairobi in good ol’ “19 eighty P” and bantering back in forth with Sibie. Holla!
Harriet- aka, H Money (H$) I will miss your pregnant belly, talking about babies, and photoshoots. Thank you for giving me such encouragement and motivation, and if either of us make it to the big time, well, we can each say I told you so.
Jacob and family- You are all so hard working and I am glad to have gotten to spend so much time learning about you lives. You welcomed us into your home warmly and even liked us after you took those wonderful ginormous surveys.
Aman- I think we have all seen from prior posts why I will miss you and want to thank you. You really are inspiring and you have motivated me to look at the big picture with whatever I do. I only wish I left you with something as you have left me with a new attitude and hope.
John & Dragon- Thank you for letting me see your work and at a time, even try it, for just a hot second. I wish you luck with your businesses and may they grow prosperously!
CREA Artisans (Dominic, Titus, Masiocha, Wallace)- You guys were so welcoming and friendly, and though I know I am not the most outgoing person, one afternoon changed everything and I am glad I got to know you as friends before I left. I will cherish our conversations, your stories, our jokes, and our time spent together. I wish you all the best for your futures and familes. Thank you for being so generous with your time and attention and though I know not when, I will definitely visit!
CREA House Staff (Beatrice and Steve)- Thank you for keeping me safe and well taken care of. As Sibie and I discussed, shall I ever know of someone that’s needs recommendations for a last meal, Beatrice, you will come to mind. Steve, although we did not speak much, I thank you for your friendliness and morning greeting. And thanks for showing me your traditional wear and Maasai jumping!
Elisabetta- Although I didn’t get to know you that well, I am pleased to have seen you “do your thing” in the few days we did have. Your attention to detail is admirable and you are a talented designer and Happy to have met you.
Cristina- Thank you for teaching me that truly selfless and good hearted people do exist, and not for ulterior motives. You are one inspirational and classy lady!
Sibie- Sibs, Sibilena, BLACK SUGAH…so many names, so little time. When I finally crave and break my hunger strike, I will think of you and in honor, pour my cereal before the yogurt. Then I will go wash my hands. Thanks for putting up with my “California-ness” and I’m sure my side of the country would welcome your crazy antics and party ways. Thanks for showing me Kenya and being so great to work with. Not only are you hilarious as heck, but sometimes you can even do it while working, imagine that! I really will miss you but now you can know that I have a new word in my vocabulary and it is SAUCED. The word, not my vocabulary.
So that’s all folks! No, really, it is not. I don’t know what my part will be with any of this in the future, but I can say the skills and experience I have acquired here will follow me with whatever I do in the future. I can’t make promises to do anything, but I can make a promise to think differently and try to do something. It’s hard to leave this experience and jump right into my next ones, but Kenya, you will not be forgotten amongst the rest of my summer and the rest of my life. I never thought that after four years of waiting and planning for the Olympics I would ever not want to go, but trust me, it is painful to leave early!
The last thank you goes to Nest for choosing me to have this chance. I am forever grateful and will try to represent Nest wherever I go as the amazing organization that it is.
Okay, that truly is it. Finito! As I switch from Kenyan art to international sport competition, I will keep the biggest thing in mind that life is amazing. =)
I have learned a lot in my time here in Kenya but another one of my conversations with Aman (surprise, surprise) stood out. Although it took place a few weeks back, I was saving it until the end as it really is the final piece in the puzzle of Nest, CREA, and the whole point of me being here (how appropriate, as I am a closet puzzle enthusiast. No sarcasm there.).
Talking with him is always a pleasure and this conversation stood out to me and opened my eyes to what is needed here in Kenya, Africa, and the rest of the developing world.
*The following conversation is not verbatim, but very close to what Aman said. Emphasis are his own*
“So when are you leaving?” Aman asked Sibie and me.
“In a few weeks. But don’t worry. We’ll be back someday.”
“No, no, stay there!”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t come back to Kenya. Stay in America and help us.”
“But we can help you here? Don’t you like us?!”
“No, you can’t. What is the use of you being here, living here and suffering with us, when you can be in the United States in comfort finding people that need our work here? That is the REAL type of help we need. And yes, we like you, but we don’t want you to suffer here. Go to America and find the help, then you can bring them here.”
As I watched Aman explain his reasoning I saw a friend that really believed in change. He believed that if we were to use our education, our contacts, our networks, and our skills, we would be able to change things not only for him and his family but for African artisans in general. He explained that the money in the jewelry business in Africa, not just Kenya, is very little but that around the world in countries of affluence there is business to be made. I thought about Nest and the Maiyet partnership and truly realized what a difference market access makes. Aman pulled out a brass cuff he was working on.
“If I make this here, how much would it cost me to make it?”
Silence on our part.
“First I would need to buy the brass. Then, I would have to use electricity, soldering tools…the labor I would put in to cast and file…For what? After all that if I were to take it to the Masai market and sell I would get what, 100, 200 shillings (equivalent of $1.50-$2.50 US)? For all that work, only 100 or 200 shillings. Whereas in America maybe I could get $5 or $6.”
For the artisans I spoke with in my time here America really is the land of opportunities. The opportunity to sell their crafts, to get orders, to have a business relationship, to save a future for their families. Although for me it was frustrating at times to learn about the logistics and relationships between brand clients and CREA, the artisans were nothing but thankful for the business they received. It really challenged me to think about my pride and expectations of relationships that come from me living in the US my whole life and to think about how the situation really is what you make of it. It is about looking on the bright side, and not just in the rosy, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,” from Spamalot kind of way. While I categorize myself as a realist (optimists argue that is what pessimists call themselves), I think I learned how to accept positivism in a real world way. Okay, I realize this is all communicated rather poorly, but it’s the best I can do to try to get my point across.
What I am trying to say is that artisans want work. They want to contribute. They don’t want handouts, they don’t want pity parties, they just want a chance to show and sell their skill that they have worked so hard to obtain. If we got down to a personal level we could see the magnitude of what not only Kenyan artisans produce, but the potential of the continent as a whole. It’s amazing how many times the GPP curriculum pops into my head but I can’t help but think on its relevance. I think Dambisa Moyo’s writings have said as much in far more eloquent literature about the disconnect of what Africa needs and what nations think Africa needs.
I can see why Nest has chosen market access as a means to fight poverty. Not only does it help alleviate poverty, it educates the world on what is achievable by different people and cultures and exposes them to beautiful crafts that might otherwise become abandoned arts. Market access teaches artisans and business partners about relationships and communication on the business and human level. It allows artisans to maintain their families and take pride in the fact that they are self-sustaining, hard working individuals. When I heard about artisans waiting around busy parts of town hoping to find someone that needed their skill, it reminded me of my dad when he first arrived in this country doing the same thing. To think of where I am now from where my mom and dad came from has made it easy to relate to these artisans hoping that their children have the same experience and life story that I have been blessed to have.
To learn more about Nest and their efforts to increase market access around the world, go to buildanest.org, or follow the link above.
As I wrap up my last weekend in Nairobi the sadness of leaving this truly beautiful place and all the amazing people I’ve met behind is growing and growing. It is those times where I wish there was something I didn’t like about the place that I could look forward to leaving, but fortunately and unfortunately, such a thing was not found in my 7 weeks here. The country itself is like driving through a mix of Hawaii and Guatemala. The people are friendly and always willing to help. The weather, while not bright and sunny every day, was in prime Crystal’s-tolerance-for-Winter temperature. The food-okay, let’s just stop talking about it because I am about to cry. In honor of this amazing culinary experience, I will go on a hunger strike following this trip as nothing will be up to par for the standards of my palette. I will miss my runs through the neighborhood, swerving to avoid mud pits and rough terrain while trying not to get sideswiped by a speeding matatu. I will miss ducking around vegetation growing right up to my window to get out of my door. I will miss the company of Sibie and Laurence as we bounced up and down Ngong Road heavens knows how many times, enjoying the free road massage. I will miss the delighted responses of “Jambo, habari asubuhi!” in the mornings to the night guards and gatekeepers. I will miss the scent of my clothes being dried out in the sunshine, even when it takes days because the sunshine is very limited (ya’ll know how in love I am with “Clean Linen” from Yankee Candle). I will miss navigating the huge supermarkets that seem to carry more stuff than Wal-Mart. I will miss being super popular with the craftspeople at the Maasai market as they show me their crafts for sale, mistakenly thinking I have money to burn. I will miss the HUGE billboards around the city that seem like an advertisement director’s dream. I will miss Nairobi traffic because coming from LA, it is definitely an improvement to the situation going on there. I will miss the smells of fresh Kenyan cooking, burning charcoal, fruits and plants like aloe that waft throughout the city. I will miss the local fruit that puts anything in Gelsons and Whole Foods to shame.
And oh, the sounds.
How I will miss the sounds.
It pains me to think that no longer will I be serenaded by thirty different bird species at breakfast, or that I will have to use headphones again during walks because there is no nature soundtrack worth listening to. I will miss the sounds of monkeys clamoring across the roofs and squirrels rustling in the trees. I will miss the sounds of the workshop, of the casting machine, the soldering flame, and the polishers. The sounds of careful filing and drilling. The sounds of Swahili conversation accompanied by laughter. The sounds of all different accents from locals, expatriates, tourists, and wanderers. The wind. The grass. The thunderstorms.
But of course, as you’ve probably guessed, what I will miss the most is the people. Not just the people I got to know well, but the people I met in passing or didn’t meet at all. Except for one taxi driver, I had a positive experience with everyone I came across. The entire team at CREA taught me so much these past weeks and I will miss them terribly. The artisans, the house staff, Cristina, Elisabetta, Renzo, Annalisa, Sibie…
I really don’t know what else to say in this post. I think the best way to describe it is like when you find someone or something you can’t get enough of and all you want to do is talk about them to anyone who will listen at all hours of the day.
Hey Crystal! My name is Nikki Brand (not sure if we’ve met but it’s definitely possible!) - I’m a GPP student/past Nest Fellow. I was in Panajachel, Guatemala with Nest last summer and had a really great, thought-provoking experience, so much so that I’m hoping to go back to Guatemala after I graduate for a year or two. Anyway, I found your blog and I’ve been keeping in touch with your work in Kenya - sounds like you’re having a really great PE!
So, two things. First, I wanted to pass on this social entrepreneurship initiative that a woman I work with now at the Clinton Foundation worked with in India: http://wellowater.org/. Just some food for thought! Basically they take this giant yellow barrels that women in India can fill with water and literally roll home, helping them both get clean water and alleviate the need to constantly go back and forth to wells. Pretty cool stuff!
And I also just wanted to wish you good luck on the rest of your PE! I absolutely LOVED my IAS 196 class (take it with Khalid if you can!), it was the perfect way to reflect on everything that I saw abroad as a Nest Fellow. Let’s make it a point to connect in August/September when we’re both back at Berkeley!
I said I was going to dedicate an entire blog to this place the first week I got here and it is a shame I did not get around to it until now. While we are waiting on deliveries to be made by the suppliers so we can send to Maiyet, I have found a little notch of time to write about this inspiring place.
Kibera is the largest slum in Kenya and second largest slum in all of Africa. That makes it a huge deal. With more than one million people living in this area is it overpopulated for the square kilometers. Artisans in every craft imaginable work here as well as live here with their families. There are also those who work here but don’t live here and those who live here but don’t work here. In the early hours of the morning the residents make their long treks to work along the railroad tracks to avoid paying costs for public transportation. When a matatu (small white vans used as buses) ride is worth half your days pay, you would think twice too about taking wheels instead of your own two feet.
Workers follow the train tracks to work. The train passes by twice a day and some even try to hitch a ride on the side.
Most of the homes in Kibera are made of galvanized aluminum sheets with bits of wood, cement, and other various materials. They lack utilities such running water, air conditioning, and heating. Electricity can be found in small amounts, often limited to an outlet or two with a single desk lamp or bulb. People like Aman count themselves lucky to have enough electricity to run their machinery in their workshops as it is hard to come by in a safe manner. Even to have electricity is a danger in itself as it is often through faulty wiring and wet surfaces. The running water in Kibera is in the form of public spigots located sporadically throughout the slum. These spigots are used by the whole community to cook food in, to bathe, to wash clothes, and to drink. The pipes that come out to these spigots run along the grounds of the slum under mud, garbage, sewage, human waste, and dumping grounds. The pipes have never been replaced as long as people can remember and are even taped up in certain areas. As one might imagine, leaks are common and all the pollutants that run along the pipes leech into the water. Those that can afford to buy drinking water must buy them at the supermarket or from carts to receive jugs of “clean” drinking water for 5 shillings. After purchasing them from sellers off the main road, residents must carry back the heavy containers that are least a few gallons. For some, this price is too high and drink the water as is, straight from the spigot.
It is hard to tell where the pipes even are as they are mostly covered along walkways.
I am embarrassed to write this next part because it shows how naïve my thinking is coming from a privileged background. Right after I said it I felt like I had let down my entire education of global poverty and had done my Berkley education a disservice. But I tell you to show you that even when a problem can seem like it has a simple solution, like I said before in Not So Straightforward, this is Africa, and this is Kibera. Solutions we are quick to jump to seem logical in our heads but as removed subjects we cannot possibly know what the real issues are affecting people. As I learned in my GPP 105 class (shoutout to my GPP classmates, what up!), we have to understand that although we may feel prepared in knowledge of a particular background, we have not experienced it and therefore cannot possibly know all the complications a situation entails. Ready for my shameful suggestion?
“So if they can’t afford to buy clean water, then why don’t they boil it?”
I saw the look on Aman’s face and I immediately knew the answer. If there was no money to buy clean water, what on Earth made me think that they would have money to buy enough charcoal to boil all their water? Aman pointed to the forest in the distance. “If they want to get firewood,” he said, “they have to go to the forest, collect the wood, and bring it back here. They miss a day of work to get enough for a few days.” Soon enough, there was a group of men coming our way carrying huge loads of firewood on their backs. In order for it to last as long as possible, careful rationing was done in each household. The buckets of charcoal for sale around Kibera were too pricey to be used for anything other than cooking. And as I had experienced in my own Kenyan home, it takes forever for anything to boil because of the altitude. Kibera residents didn’t have the luxury of using precious fuel to boil all their water.
Aman pointing to the far woods where firewood must be gathered.
The next thing Aman told us about was the human waste. Some time ago, communal toilets were installed around the slum for use for free. With one single toilet in an area being used for upwards of 50 people the wear was too much for the toilet to be free. The toilets are now able to be used at the price of 10 shillings (about 12 US cents. This reminded me of my travels to Guatemala where any public restroom usage comes with a fee. A few quetazels get you a few squares of toilet paper and a turn at the toilet). Those that cannot afford it use the infamous flying toilets. For those that don’t know, a flying toilet is a plastic bag in which feces are put, tied up, and thrown (thus the “flying” part) into massive heaps of waste. This is the same waste that runs over the public water pipes contaminating the water supply. Not being able to afford basic necessities is the reason for this vicious cycle. If prices were lower for water, residents wouldn’t have to drink the dirty water. If the residents could afford using the toilet, they wouldn’t have to contaminate their water by using flying toilets or defecating on the ground. Aman made this clear by saying that even just reducing the cost of a toilet turn would make a huge difference. When there are so many bills to pay, people need to cut costs and turns at the toilet are often the first to go.
The types of homes and schools here. On the far left is a small school room.
At this point in the day I felt like I had to take a breather. Even writing it now gets me a little choked up because the feelings I felt when I heard the words “flying toilet” were surreal.
That moment was just like it happens in the movies. The sounds in the background fade out and your vision gets a little blurry as you have an intense flashback. I saw myself sitting in GPP 115 lecture, hiding the fact that I was eating in Wheeler, laughing with friends waiting for class to start. I heard Prof. Ananya Roy talking about the Millennium Goals, showing us slide shows, and explaining signs of poverty like flying toilets. I remembered reviewing for midterms, debates in discussion, and of course clapping at the end of each lecture the first two weeks. And it all just seemed so far away. I think it was then that I actually understood what people meant that to read something in a book or to see something in a documentary was completely different than actually being there. Before this trip there were a lot of questions for me along the lines of, “Why Kenya?” I recall explaining to them that I wanted to come here for this very reason. While it was something I expected, planned for, and looked forward to, it was still not enough to prepare me for the emotions that I had that day. It was a miracle I was able to keep it together because if you know me even a pinch you know I fall apart when I hear something even relatively sad, like the opening score of Up or Pearl Harbor. I felt like I had just come full circle with my global poverty courses the past two years and my education of Africa since high school. It was no Oprah “Aha” Moment, but it was a moment.
The largest bill for families is the rent for their homes. A typical home in Kibera is a 9X9 foot aluminum shed that costs around 1,200 shillings a month (about $15 US). This entire space is used for eating, sleeping, cooking, studying, working…Aman pointed to construction a little ways off and told us about the housing the government was building to try and clear out the slum. By making this “affordable housing,” the government hoped to use it to reduce the population of the slum and prevent further settlement. At 5,000 shilling per month ( about $70 US), this was anything but affordable to the people that lived in Kibera. The housing was largely unoccupied because there were so few people that could afford it. What resulted from that was a lot of wasted space and displaced people as the new development was built over some of the properties. Aman shared that the government could not bring themselves to deal with Kibera’s issues such as lack of water and sanitation. They simply wanted to clear the people out to make room for more luxury homes to cater to the high UN presence. This was another issue that was very angering as development projects are literally everywhere, waiting to be occupied by the wealthy UN officials while people are living in shanties left and right.
The mostly vacant cement housing development off to the left.
The next bills that need to be paid are the school fees. Monthly school fees run in the range of 500 shillings per month, per child (about $6.50 US). This is not cheap for skilled workers that earn 600 shillings a day. With the high birth rate in Kenya you can see how this cost adds up rather quickly to educate an entire family’s children. But Aman says that it is worth it because he wants a future for his kids. He knows that the sacrifices he is making now will one day pay off when his children are educated. It is upsetting to think about kids back at home that have access to free education and treat it like it is the worst chore ever. Doing poorly in school, playing hooky, and faking sick are an insult to education and I think it is a shame that those who want it most have to sacrifice so much and those with it handed to them on a silver platter take it as a punishment.
In Aman’s Story I talked about how hopeful he was in the future and how much he wanted to help people if he could. I can’t say enough how privileged I feel to have met him. He is a man of great faith and wisdom and I am lucky that he considers me a friend. Despite his circumstances he has the utmost faith that God has put him where he is for a purpose and he is just waiting to find out what that is. He always has a smile on his face and his laugh if absolutely infectious.
As we stood there in silence taking in the slum Aman asked, “So what do you think?”
“I think…” was all I could muster.
Looking at Sibie, Kendra, and I just standing there, Aman smiled.
“Ah, I can see your hearts are in Kibera.”
Without skipping a beat one of my favorite catch phrases slipped into my head.
“True that.”
I think I can honestly say I did leave a piece of my heart in Kibera, but not because of sadness or sympathy. While those feelings are definitely there, a bigger one is joy. The happiness that people have there comes despite a life of challenges and uncertainty that would make most of us fortunate people want to fall to our knees and give up. I think about how happy the children we visited in school were and how content they were with being there despite the crowded and cramped classroom. I think about all the people we passed by walking around town, joking and chatting like any friends would at a mall or coffee shop. The men walking and talking together to and from work reminded me of the businessmen heavily debating obscure and uninteresting subjects on BART. While those in Kibera make less a day than most of us make in minutes, their happiness is something to envy. Their positive attitude causes you to want to do more because you know that whatever you do, they will be grateful.
I know I can’t make promises about what I will do, or try to do, to make a difference in Kibera now or in the near future. I know that the only thing worse than not promising anything at all is falling through on a promise. So although I felt like yelling out, “No, something can be done here, the government will change!” I knew I could not. Going back to GPP 105, we cannot see ourselves as some white knight riding in to the rescue, as tempting and appealing as it sounds. While we all feel like we want to make a difference, it takes a massive amount of time, effort, and coordination to make something happen. I walked back to the car thinking about how many people have stood in my place and had the same feelings I had had, feelings that something must be done, something can be done, and something will be done. But once removed and back to our lives, strong passions we felt are often suppressed by the routine of our daily lives and these life altering experiences quietly slip to the back of our minds against our will.
My mom always says, “Write things down. Once you write them down, you’ll always remember.” Of course Mom always knows best and in my experience this has been true in the past. Although I truly think I would never forget Kibera, I can always come back here, just in case. =)
This afternoon I had my first real moment of pure relaxation. As Sibie and I waited to be picked up at the end of our half-day of work Saturday, I found a nice spot on the grass, laid down, and closed my eyes.
Okay, maybe not exactly, but pretty close. No cars. No people. No helicopters. No planes.
Just nature.
I could hear twenty species of birds chirping their distinct and repetitive songs.Thank goodness because I’ve had that silly mockingjay song from the Hunger Games stuck in my head the past few weeks and I have been ready for a change for quite some time. I could sense different types of bugs and bees buzzing around the grass. If I looked up I could see the huge scavengers circling above me gliding ever so slowly around and around. And best of all, I could feel the sun warming my face as the heat from the close distance to the sun made me a tad bit concerned about getting a sunburn. But not enough to get up and do anything about it. If you know me even a little, you know my love affair with the sun is only topped by my love for water and Raisinetts. So yeah, I wasn’t getting up any time soon.
I laid there trying not to fall asleep as although relaxed as I was if I even felt like there was a threat of a bug crawling on me I jolted awake. It was the first time in a long time that I have actually though about nothing. I was just as they say, being. It is a feeling I am kept away from with my life at home trying to juggle a rigorous academic schedule, three jobs, keeping relationships with friends and family, and at the same time finding time for myself. While my hikes in the Berkeley hills help me tremendously with keeping my sanity, the nature and comfort they provide have never felt like this. Partially, I’m sure, due to the fact that when I hike not only do I have classes later in the day but that I can see the Berkeley campus most of the way. Here, laying in this grass, I felt like I could see nothing, but in a good way.
My relaxation came to an end when Charlie came barreling over with sloppy dog kisses to pull me out of my happy place. But even still, petting Charlie in that field of grass listening to Kenya was more peaceful than anything I find in LA.
I know I am starting to miss home but I know that I need to embrace every minute I have here. I have my whole life to live at home but only another ten days in this beautiful country. There will be plenty of time for hectic schedules, deadlines, futures, blasting car horns, yelling people, and blaring radios, and of course smelly BART rides. But for now, I will just BE.
“Some say Cristina is Italian. We say Cristina is an angel from Heaven that happens to be from Italy.” -artisan
Today the CREA House lost its fearless leader Cristina as she flies to Europe tomorrow for a few months to begin her work in searching for new clients as the new fashion season comes into play. Although we will all miss her here, everyone knows that in order to grow the business she needs to be where the clients are doing what she does best. No one can sell the concept of ethical sourcing better than she can which as much passion and experience as she can. I was sad to see her go yet I was only here for a few weeks and will only be here for a few more. The artisans are having a much harder time adjusting to the idea of being without her so Sibie and I hope we can make the transition as smoothly as possible.
This past week has been a blur of client and artisan chasing, product evaluation, and order shipment as Cristina tried to get as much out before her departure. All that while coordinating her own personal things that needed to be settled in the move…amazing. After a week of careful observation and briefing, Sibie and I are ready to man the Maiyet helm on our own (wow, that got real cheesy, real fast). Cristina has been a great teacher in our time there and she has taught us not only how to manage this business but important lessons in compassion and integrity, ethics and dedication, hard work and patience. Although it is hectic most of the time, the work in the end is very rewarding which is why Cristina has continued to do what she does through building a company, having it taken away, and building yet another one.
To wrap up the week, more progress was made with the audit, although the audit now seems quite different as I know a large portion of the answers to the questions from observations. Cristina is so transparent that you know exactly what is going on at all times. She says she has to vocalize to-do lists because it is the best way to remind herself of what needs to be done. She uses a well organized diary to plan the days and weeks ahead and sticks to the itinerary. The incredible thing is that she writes them down but never has to look at them to remember that they need to be done. It is almost like she has files in her head, each labeled with the name of a client, a supplier, an artisan, or herself.
In our time at the CREA house we have seen how orders are given to artisans, how they are managed, how they are paid, how they are delivered, and much more. It is stunning to think of how sheltered and ignorant people can be when trying to understand the situation in Kenya. Something Cristina says all the time is that people don’t understand that, “This is Africa.” Something so easy and basic in an economically vibrant country is an entirely different story in all of Africa, not just Kenya. It is something that clients don’t understand, or have a hard time reacting to that understanding. While it may seem straightforward in an office, on the ground the situation is quite different. When you want a material for a craft in the States, you go to the store. If that store is out, you go to another one. If that one is out, you order online, net-day delivery. Simple as that.
If you can even get to work on time here, it is a miracle. Shoddy and unreliable transportation can set you back easily. Bribes required from police officers can cause an unexpected expense and loss of time. Limited communication (bad reception, no telephone) can cause confusion. Shady businesspeople can set you up for disaster. The possibilities of something going awry never end. Sibie, who has family here, is also a testament to the situation. She also says that, “Here, nothing is straightforward.”
I have said it before and I’ll say it again that this is an eye-opening experience. Yes, I have seen the like in Central American countries but as a tourist. Calamities faced in that instance are seen as part of traveling. In a business setting, it is quite different. You have people and companies waiting on you, sending items back, taking items in, and it just gets so crazy. Try as you might to adhere to standards and deadlines, it is sometimes just not possible. Imagine the complexities involved in group business and projects at home. Now take out the Internet. Good luck.
That is exactly like how it is here. Multiple steps are required for each little thing and time and transportation are not at your disposal. It’s like losing a limb but still being expected to perform as you had with it. Nearly impossible, even after time and practice.
Contrary to those at home, Sibie and I were once again working on the CREA catalog and website. We spent July 4th at our photo shoot and it was way more fun and tiring than anticipated. The day before Sibie had planned out the looks we wanted with jewelry and discussed with the model what clothes to wear. Michele works closely with some of CREA’s other suppliers for brands other than Maiyet so when we scheduled the shoot we thought of her and her own designs. So Michele came over with tons of clothes and experience and we finished choosing the looks and locations.
Nervous to see how this maiden voyage would pan out, I was glad Michele knew exactly what we were going for and that Sibie took charge with direction. That left for me to do what I enjoy doing best- taking pictures. At first it started out as loads of fun with shots galore. But as the day wore on, it was easy to see the reality behind Michele’s stories of modeling in years past. Yes, you get tired. Yes, you want to take breaks (sometimes not possible because of the light advantages and disadvantages as the day goes on).Yes, you get hungry. Yes, your head starts to hurt from squinting. And yes, by the end, you just want to stop. But yes, it is also A LOT of fun.
Hours later we were finished and famished. So Cristina took us out for a late lunch due to the power outage in the kitchen at Le Rustique, an Italian restaurant not far from CREA. There Cristina told us to avoid pizza and pasta, as eating legitiamate Italian food in an illegitimate Italian restaurant was just setting yourself up for disappointment. So we all had crepes instead. And they were…good. After a month of Beatrice and Cristina’s cooking, this was hands down the worst meal I had eaten in Kenya, not counting my own. But the fact that it was still good should tell you something.
In an attempt to celebrate the 4th with the rest of America, I ordered American cheesecake for dessert. Let’s just say I am demanding that a slice of cheesecake be awaiting my arrival at the airport at the conclusion of this trip.
What was that? You want another post? But of course.
P.S. In celebration of the Fourth, I watched fireworks on my laptop at the appropriate time. Yes, I’m a dork.
CREA AFRICA LTD photoshoot. All jewelry by CREA. All clothing, with exception to white shirt, by Nyeri: Daughter of a Warrior. (Nairobi, Kenya, July 4, 2012)